


Good Intentions

by TheRussianKat



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha Charles Smith, Alpha Hosea Matthews, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Multi, Omega Arthur Morgan, omega sean macguire, pregnant arthur morgan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRussianKat/pseuds/TheRussianKat
Summary: Arthur just wanted to get out of camp for while, so of course everything went wrong
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston/Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde, Karen Jones/Sean MacGuire
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

There were a lot of things Arthur had forgotten about being pregnant. He had forgotten needing to spill his guts at the slightest whiff of coffee. He had forgotten how exhausting day to day activities could get. But mostly he had forgotten how tedious it got being under ‘camp arrest’.

When he had been pregnant with Isaac it hadn’t been nearly as suffocating, the Van Der Linde gang was a small fledgling thing that needed all hands on deck so though he was kept from the line of fire he still got to go gallivanting with the rest of them most of the time. Now though, both Dutch and Hosea agreed that the gang had plenty of hands to pick up any slack that would be felt if Arthur was out of commission. So he found himself in a position he hadn’t been in in almost twenty years; with nothing to do.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he were able to leave camp on his own, but another bright idea by Dutch meant he was accompanied on any excursions which would take him out of view of Horseshoe Overlook. Normally he would enjoy the company but there was nothing like over-exposure to your friends and loved ones to induce homicidal inclinations.

None of it was helped by the fact Charles was going along with Dutch’s stifling ideas, pleased that his mates’ safety was being prioritized.

* * *

Charles had been the first to notice Arthur was pregnant, even before the Omega himself had felt the change. On one of the too cold mornings in Colter, Charles had woken before the sun, wrapped around Arthur, nose buried in the crook of his neck. It was the warmest either had been since their scramble away from Blackwater and Charles was taking the moment to bask in the company of his mate when he picked it up, a sweet tinge to Arthurs scent. He half thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his inner Alpha howling with delight as he tightened his grip on Arthur, one hand unconsciously sliding lower to lay over his flat stomach.

The change in position caused the Omega to whine in his sleep, wriggling as if trying to get even closer to Charles, head straining to bare his neck to the Alpha. Taking the opportunity presented Charles had begun to lavish attention upon the bond mark now accessible to him, humming happily as Arthurs scent became thicker, the sweetness dripping like molasses through his senses.

“It’s too damn cold to take anythin’ off so don’t go startin’ nothin’ we can’t finish okay?” Arthur had grumbled as he was pulled into consciousness, though he made no effort to stop the Alphas affections.

“When were you going to tell me?” Charles asked voice barely more than a breath tickling his skin.

This woke Arthur up, the Omega stretching out and turning in the Alphas arms so they were now face to face “What’re you on about?”

Meeting Arthurs eyes Charles couldn’t stop the grin spreading on his face. He had everything. Everything was looking right back at him. “The pup, I can smell it all over you,” his voice was almost wistful as he spoke.

It took a moment. But gradually Arthurs eyes widened in realization, his own hand meeting Charles where is was resting on his currently flat stomach “Oh shit,” then he broke into soft laughter, tilting his head forward meeting his mate in a kiss.

Once they had thoroughly congratulated themselves and had a well-deserved rest the gravity of the situation began to settle in. The timing couldn’t be worse. The gang was in no position in Colter to prepare for a pup, not with Pinkertons on their tail and O’Driscolls around every corner. They needed to be somewhere stable, or at least as stable as their way of life could afford. Telling the gang now would cause them to rush, make mistakes, it would be more of a risk than keeping them in the dark. So they kept it between them, just until they were off the mountain and able to visit an actual Doctor.

It wasn’t too difficult to keep from the rest of the gang, still in the early days so no physical evidence suggesting anything was different quite yet. Arthur took to wearing Charles shirts and scarfs to keep his scent masked, though Arthur was sure Hosea was already suspicious. When they got to the Heartlands they waited a few days before visiting the Doctor in Valentine to confirm the pregnancy. A couple of weeks later they finally told the gang.

* * *

A few days after the announcement had been made in camp that they were expecting a pup; Arthur had started noticing the differences in how he was being treated. It was little things at first; the girls, especially Mary-Beth, sneaking him chocolate and other treats, Susan no longer making a racket outside his tent to wake him up in the morning and Hosea making a point of keeping a seat at the campfire free in case Arthur chose to join them.

Steadily it escalated. One day Pearson coming to him with a bowl of stew before giving the ‘dinner call’ to the rest of the gang and more notably Bill _not_ complaining about it. Sean and Lenny had started competing over who could do Arthurs chores first, much to the amusement of the rest of the camp as the competition quickly devolved into them sabotaging each other; Lenny tying Seans feet together whilst he slept being a particular highlight.

After a fortnight of being stuck in camp Arthur decided enough was enough. He hadn’t left camp on his own in sixteen days and he was losing his mind. It was almost 3am and with Charles on the late watch, he was able to slip from his cot without anyone pulling him back under the blanket.

Carefully he crept through camp, giving Dutch’s tent a wide birth as he approached his horse; a mustang he’d kindly relieved an O’Driscoll of in Valentine. The mare gave a huff at being awoken at such an hour but was quickly silenced with a peppermint. Giving a quick glance to his surroundings Arthur pulled himself into the saddle and gave her a pat before nudging her into a trot.

Knowing Charles would be at the tree-line on the side of the road he took the route down the hill towards Limpany, hoping Sean would have fallen asleep so he could slip by un-noticed. He could see the silhouette of Sean through the trees. Cursing his luck, he kept the horse at a trot, hoping to waltz by without a question from the other Omega. But it was Sean, and Sean was never one to back down from a drama.

“Aye English? Where d’ya think ya goin?” the Irishman called, even louder than Arthur had anticipated.

Halting the horse, Arthur took a breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves. “I’m just goin’ for a lil’ ride, be back ‘fore you know it,” he tried to sound flippant, throwing in an easy grin to sell it.

Sean was not convinced. His rifle hung uselessly in his hand but his attention was entirely focused on Arthur. “Right, and ol’ Dutch knows ya goin’ out on your lonesome does he?”

“Sean, come on,” Arthur began, not caring about his pleading tone only to be cut off by the other man.

“No way English! Dutch’ll have my hide if he finds out I let you go off on your own,” the Irishman began to ramble “and that’s notin’ compared to what Charles’ll do! That man o’ yours could tear me arms off and feed’em to me! No way, I ain’t gettin-“

“Sean please,” Arthur snapped, white knuckled as he tightened his grip on the reigns trying to keep his temper in check. “I promise I will be back ‘fore anyone knows I’m gone, but you gotta let me go. If I stay cooped up another hour I’m gonna lose my damn mind.”

For a moment Sean didn’t say anything and Arthur was half worried the other man might just shout for Charles and leave him to deal with it. But Sean, as he had an amazing habit of doing, surprised him. “Fine, but if anyone asks I’m tellin’ ‘em you t’reatened me with physical violence okay? Now get outta here ‘fore anyone sees me lettin’ ya.”

“’ppreciate this kid,” Arthur thanked the red head, spurring his mustang forward.

* * *

For a while Arthur simply followed the river, taking in the cool night air soft sounds of the wildlife. As he rode he felt the tension of the past few weeks melt out of him, feeling like he could breathe properly for the first time in days. He knew the gang was just looking out for him and his pup and that Charles being slightly over-protective was to be expected with him carrying the Alphas first pup. But he needed this, even if it was just a couple of hours of peace.

For the most part Charles had been endearingly sweet. The Alpha had stopped drinking coffee and successfully negotiated moving the percolator to the Scout-fire so Arthur could sit at the main campfire without feeling nauseous. When he went out hunting he would always return with fresh raspberries or blackberries, knowing the Omega couldn’t get enough of them recently. Arthur couldn’t think of a time he had felt more looked after.

A knot of guilt was beginning to form in his throat. If Charles saw he was missing he would panic.

Still, Arthur had tried speaking to the Alpha, tried to talk him into letting him be involved in jobs again, but each time Charles had brushed him off and told him to take it easy. As sweet and caring as the Alpha was he didn’t seem to realise that Arthur was getting stir crazy.

So Arthur swallowed down the knot and kept riding telling himself he would be back before anyone noticed. It would be fine.

* * *

There was a reason Sean didn’t normally get given the late watch and Hosea was starkly reminded of it when he found the man dozing against a rock, his rifle cradled in his lap. Without hesitation he marched towards the younger man, not holding back when he aimed a kick at his ribs. “Get up you lazy little shit!” the Alpha hissed, glaring at the other man.

Instantly Sean was scrambling to his feet, rifle gripped haphazardly by the barrel. The moment he spotted Hosea stood over him with his arms crossed the Irishman froze; _one did not try to bullshit Hosea Matthews_. He stayed quiet, waiting for the older man to speak.

“Now that you’re awake, perhaps you can tell me where Arthur has wandered off to?” Hosea sounded calmer but Sean could see the cold anger in his eyes. His stomach sank, _Arthur hadn’t come back_. It must have been a good few hours since the other man had trotted out of camp, the sun now peaking above the horizon and the sounds of the camp beginning to filter through the trees.

If Sean thought he was scared of Charles, he was goddamn terrified of Hosea. Finding his voice, and keeping his eyes on the other man, Sean told Hosea exactly what had happened. “Don’t know where ‘e went, thought he’d be back by now, ‘onest I did.”

Hosea studied Sean, deep down he had always had an odd affection for him, probably because he reminded him a lot of how Arthur and John had been at his age. He was a good kid. Occasionally dim and overly confident, but a good kid none the less. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face before giving Sean a pat on the shoulder “Okay, I guess I better go speak with Mister Smith before he finds his mate missing.”

Not knowing if Hosea was expecting any response Sean kept his mouth shut, watching as the older man turned away from him and began walking back towards camp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles comes back to find his Mate missing and Arthur, of course, finds trouble...

Sat just beyond the copse of trees behind Painted Sky barn Arthur could feel the tension of the last few weeks ebbing away as he watched dawn began to pinken the sky. He would have to head back to camp soon. Hopefully before anyone woke up so he could sneak back into his tent without being questioned, he really didn’t feel like one of Dutch’s lectures.

He leant back against the rock, one hand resting on the swell of his abdomen. It was far too early to feel any movement, but both he and Charles agreed that at the quiet moments they could feel something was there. He was still a few weeks away from his bump becoming a noticeable protrusion but he was already finding his jeans had become tighter around him. But if he took his shirt off and turned to just the right angle he could see the bump. Warmth spread through him as he gently rubbed circles over his stomach, camp arrest or not, life could definitely be worse.

* * *

Charles chose the night watches for two reasons; it was peaceful in a way the comings and goings of the day guard shift weren’t and it meant he got to sleep for as long as he liked afterwards. He wandered back into the camp, keen to join Arthur in the warmth of their bunk. Since they had announced the pup Hosea had gifted them some extra canvas to close off their tent to the outside world. Arthur had protested, seeing no issue with the current arrangement, but Charles had welcomed the privacy. He knew it was his instincts taking over, wanting to keep the Omega close, safe and preferably hidden. An intent the Omega was suitably annoyed by.

Since the extra canvas had been put up almost a fortnight ago Arthur had avoided it like the plague unless he was sleeping and even then he wasn’t keen on it. More than once Charles had come back from guard duty to find Arthur slumped and dozing by the camp fire, needing to be coerced back to the bunk.

Realistically Charles knew Arthur would never do anything that could hurt himself or the pup, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take a few extra precautions to ensure their safety; unless you asked Arthur that was. It hadn’t escalated to an argument yet but Charles could feel one brewing. He knew his Mate was sick and tired of being cooped up in camp and not being able to leave on his own had left him in a foul mood more than once.

A few days earlier Dutch had caught him trying to sneak out on his own, he had immediately called John to accompany him but Arthur had just dropped his horses’ tack and stomped off, grumbling to himself as he brushed past the two men.

Charles hadn’t been there when it had happened, only finding out almost an hour after the fact when he returned from a hunt. Hosea had intercepted him on his way to Pearsons table, pointing out the figure of his mate where he was sat on the edge of the cliff, shoulders slumped and head bowed. He was sulking.

He didn’t look up as Charles approached, but the Alpha could tell his Mate knew he was there, the way he stopped fiddling with the pencil between his fingers as Charles settled in the grass beside him.

“Hosea said you didn’t want to go into town with John,” Arthur still didn’t look at him, he pushed further “I thought you wanted to get a new journal?” He brushed Arthurs fingers with his own, a silent invitation but the Omega just pulled his hand back placing it in his lap and out of Charles reach.

Both men knew Charles could simply drag Arthur closer, give him no choice but to accept the comfort he was offering. He could pull Arthur in and scent him into next week, leave him docile and amenable. He had seen other Alphas do it; dragging around limp, glassy eyed Omegas so scent drunk they could barely stand. He couldn’t do that to Arthur, his mate would never forgive him and he could not imagine forgiving himself. So he let Arthur keep the distance.

“Just wanted some peace and quiet is all, seems I can’t get five minutes to myself anymore.” Charles opened his mouth to respond but Arthur wasn’t finished “Can’t even go to Valentine without needin’ a babysitter.”

“Last time you went to Valentine you got thrown out a window,” the Alpha pointed out “and the time before you got into a fight at the hotel.”

“Neither of those were my fault,” Arthur argued.

“I’m not saying it was,” Charles placated, beginning to rub circles on Arthurs back “But you’ve got to admit, trouble always seems to follow you recently.” The circles seemed to be helping more than the words, the bitter tang that had laced the Omegas scent slowly fading.

“Just feels like I’m bein’ punished for somethin’” the admission was quiet but it got all of Charles attention. He took the moment to really look at his Mate, taking in the slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. He looked exhausted, dark bags beneath his eyes. He was wearing one of Charles shirts, the blue with the polka dots matching his eyes. It was a habit he had continued since Colter when they had been keeping it all a secret. Charles had stopped being surprised to see his mate wrapped in his clothes.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe,” he kept rubbing circles but gradually moving his hand lower so he was caressing Arthurs hips more than his back “keep you both safe.” He punctuated this with a warm and overly wet kiss to the Omegas cheek.

Arthur tried to push him away, grinning at the display of affection. The other man was not to be discouraged though, surging forward and bracketing Arthur with his arms as he continued his affectionate assault. Arthur tumbled backwards into the grass, grabbing at Charles as he fell, pulling the Alpha on top of him.

Neither meant to get lost in the moment but they were unceremoniously dragged out of it by Ms Grimshaw. A swift kick to Charles ribs had him rolling off the Omega with an ‘oof’.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing Mr Smith?” she groused, stood over them with her hands on her hips. The Alpha stared up at her, not convinced she actually wanted a response. “Come on, get up, can’t be lounging in the grass all day,” she ordered, clapping her hands when he didn’t move fast enough for her liking “Anyone would think you were trying to make twins the way you’re carrying on! But there are children present and you better keep these antics inside your tent from now on. You should be looking after your Mate, not trying to mount him at every possible turn!” She rambled on and Charles could feel his face heating up as other gang members halted what they were doing to watch the commotion.

He made a point of brushing off what little dirt had clung to his clothes, trying to ignore the way Arthur was looking up at him, mirth in his eyes as he watched his Alpha get chewed out by Ms Grimshaw. “Go on, help him up off the floor! You get him into his condition and just leave him in the grass! No common sense you Alphas!”

Taking pity on Charles, Arthur finally spoke up “Ms Grimshaw, it’s my fault, Charles was just tryin’ to cheer me up is all,” he explained, taking Charles offered hand and getting to his feet. Her expression softened with his words and she reached forward to pick a stray leaf that had caught on his shirt.

“Well, okay then,” she conceded, but with a flash or sternness added “But if I catch you two rollin’ around like that when little Jack is about again you’re both in for a soakin’ okay?”

“Of course Ms Grimshaw,” Arthur appeased, whilst Charles just gave a hum of acknowledgement, wrapping his arm around Arthurs waist. As the beta had walked away, leaving them to their own devices, they had quickly ensconced themselves in their tent and the conversation had practically been forgotten.

Charles was brought back to moment at hand when he entered their tent. _No Arthur._ The cot was as neat as he had left it the day before. Not a thing out of place or disturbed, except… _Arthurs satchel._ The satchel had gone, no longer resting atop the chest at the foot of the cot.

He sat on the edge of the cot, running his hand over the blankets which had long since gone cold. He could still smell Arthur, his scent having permeated everything in their tent, but it wasn’t as warm and fresh as it should have been. Arthur was gone. He could feel his blood starting to rush, the Alpha in him unnerved at the missing Omega. Taking a breath he stood back up, Arthur wouldn’t have gone far, probably fell asleep by the fire again.

The rest of camp was starting to wake up, he could see Javier by the main campfire nursing a steaming cup of coffee and Keiran was already tending to the horses. _No Arthur though_. Trying to keep calm he walked through the camp, his heart racing faster as it became more and more apparent Arthur was not to be found. 

"Mr Smith!" a voice called, Charles turned to see Hosea coming towards him. He tried to wave the older man off, focused on finding his absconded Mate, but Hosea was not one to be ignored. "It would seem Arthur decided to slip out of camp last night." He felt his stomach drop, Hosea confirming his suspicion sending ice through his veins. "Apparently, young Mister MacGuire saw him leave during the night."

Charles spun on his heel and began to march towards where Taima was happily grazing with the other horses. How could Arthur be so damn careless? He could hear footsteps behind him, no doubt Hosea planning on accompanying him. As he reached for the horses tack which had been left at the hitching post, a hand on his wrist stopped him.

Despite his age, Hosea still had notable strength, the Alpha in him not having dwindled in his many years. A growl was steadily building in the younger Alphas chest as Hosea’s grip tightened, preventing him from his intention of saddling up. Looking the smaller man in the eyes, the growl wilted some. In a pack there was a hierarchy. In the Van Der Linde pack Hosea was at the top of it. Still Charles would not bend in submission to the other man, standing his ground as he was stared down.

Hosea was not looking for a fight nor to prove any dominance over the other man. In that moment he was simply a concerned father. “There is no sense rushing after him like a damsel in distress. You’re bonded to him, does it feel like anything’s wrong?” he queried, finally letting go of his wrist.

Tension still thrummed through his body but Charles took the moment and focused on his bond. It was warm, a steady heat on his neck and pulsing through his body, something he had got so accustomed to it barely registered anymore. Calmness came with the realisation, _Arthur was fine_. His shoulders dropped and exhaustion replaced the panic.

“I thought so,” Hosea said taking Charles now relaxed posture for what it meant. “Let’s let him have this for now, he's been cooped up for weeks, no sense dragging him back to camp quite yet.”

Charles nodded in silent agreement, letting go of the saddle and tack, running a hand over his face as his eyes itched with sleep.

“Good man,” Hosea clapped him on the back, walking beside Charles as they made their way further into camp. As they got to Charles tent “When he gets back we can _both_ yell at him for wandering off in the middle of the night.”

* * *

Weariness washed over Arthur as he rode back towards camp. It had been weeks of broken sleep ever since Charles had closed their tent off to the outside world. It wasn’t as though Arthur didn’t like the privacy it afforded them; he did even if he pretended he didn’t. The real problem was it felt like he was cutting himself off from everyone else. In his years living with the gang he had always slept with the bustle of life around him. It was okay when Charles retired at the same time as him but recently his Mate had been taking more and more of the night guard shifts leaving Arthur alone in the quiet tent. So he had taken to catching rest at the campfire, knowing only Hosea, Charles or Dutch would have the nerve to wake him.

He knew Charles had put it down to him being stubborn, the way he would whisper admonishments as he lead him back to the tent in the morning. Hosea on the other hand seemed to see his antics for what they were. The older man would let him sleep as he took his morning coffee by the fire, Arthur had woken a few times to his surrogate father sat beside him as he had dozed uncomfortably beside the logs. Dutch may speak of grand plans and his vision for the future but it was Hosea who could see what was actually happening most of the time.

Taking the scenic route back to camp was starting to seem like a mistake as Arthur found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. He had just crossed the river and half way to Limpany when he saw the figures racing down the hill towards him. All daubed in black coats and green shirts as they levelled their guns at him.

It was amazing how much being ambushed could wake you up Arthur thought as he felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him.

“You’ll stop if you know what’s good for ya,” one of the O’Driscolls shouted, shotgun aimed at Arthurs throat. Another quickly approached, yanking the reins out of his hands before pointing his own revolver at him.

 _Shit shit shit_ Charles was going to kill him. Being under camp arrest was bad enough, he’d be amazed if he was allowed out of his tent after this.

It was one against at least eight from what he could see, not terrible odds but too much of a risk under the circumstances. Still, they didn’t seem to know who he was, it was just a routine stick up for them. He could play the poor unfortunate civilian, give them what little he had on him and ride off before they put two and two together.

“Hey Mickey, don’t that look like Aidens horse to you?”

 _Aw shit_. He had to think fast, he had only had the mare a few weeks and had thought the previous owner, Aiden apparently, wouldn’t miss it as he was missing half his head after meeting the business end of Arthurs shotgun.

“Where’d you get this horse fella?” the one closest, Mickey, asked jabbing his revolver into Arthurs side with each word.

“Bought it in Valentine a few weeks back,” they didn’t look convinced as Arthur spoke but none of them questioned it either “Apparently some old feller left her outside the stables, never came back.”

A few of the O’Driscolls were exchanging looks, tilting their heads as they considered the explanation.

“Off the horse, we’ll be takin’ her and whatever you got in your pockets, no fuss and ya’ might even be able to walk away from t’is,” the one with the shotgun ordered.

Careful not to make any sudden movements Arthur began to get off the horse. He wasn’t too far from camp and only had a few dollars on him, an acceptable loss in exchange for getting back to camp in one piece.

As his feet touched the dirt he was shoved backwards, stumbling over his own feet and falling to the ground, only just catching himself. Before he had the chance to pick himself up two sets of hands were pushing him down, keeping him on his knees and his hands were wrenched behind his back. 

They patted him down, searching each of his pockets as they went. A few dollars, a ring given to him by a stranger and some premium cigarettes were all they got Arthur just hoped it would be enough. He didn’t try and struggle, even as they took his guns.

One of the men holding him loosened his grip slightly, bending to get a proper look at Arthur. “You know, this bastard don’t half look like Van Der Lindes mutt,” he drawled, grabbing Arthurs face and twisting it so he was looking him dead in the eye.

Mickey looked over at Arthur, squinting slightly as he took in the features of his face. He was a lanky man and stood a good few inches taller than Arthur, his eyes sunken deep into his face like someone had tried pushing them in. “What you talkin’ ‘bout?” he swaggered towards them, hunching over slightly so he was eye level with Arthur. Then he gave a low whistle and a grin spread on his face making him even more of a weasel “Hell you might be right Dougie, but this ain’t no mutt,” he was laughing, like wet gravel being jostled in his mouth “Arthur Morgan, Colm’s gonna be so glad to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback always welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

Charles slept fitfully, the cot which was usually far too cramped feeling ostensibly large and cold without Arthur beside him. His mind kept plaguing him with visions of Arthur trapped beneath his horse, face down in the river or being pursued by Pinkertons. He knew Arthur was okay, he could feel it, but his mind was yet to be convinced. Rolling to the edge of the cot he fumbled through one of the chests stowed underneath, pulling out a dusty bottle of tonic, he wiped the worst of the dust and grime onto the blanket before popping the stopper out and taking a long swig. It tasted awful. The herbs had retained their bitterness but the sourness of age coated his mouth making him gag.

So much for helping him sleep he thought as he dragged himself out of the cot, spitting onto the grass. He stayed in his union-suit, only taking time to pull on some pants before exiting the tent in search of something to clear the taste.

Pearson’s wagon was well stocked, tins of meats, fruits and beans piled high, but Charles was looking for something in particular. Going to the back of the wagon he began searching through the boxes, passing over the multiple bottles of rum, whiskey and beer he finally found what he was looking for. A small box wrapped in a scrap of linen, no doubt to hide it from Jack and possibly Dutch, full of chocolate. He took two bars then tucked the box back between the bottles.

He made his way to the edge of the camp, settling on one of the large rocks watching as the sun rose in the sky. The chill of the morning made him regret leaving his shirts back in the tent. He peeled the foil from the first chocolate bar, snapping the end off and popping it into his mouth. It melted slowly, smothering the taste of the rancid tonic. As he broke off another chunk he suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He was being watched. Surveying his surroundings his eyes landed on a little figure watching him from behind Strauss’s tent.

_Jack Marston._

He hadn’t spent much time with the boy. In the two years he had been with the gang he had of course noticed Jack, and spoken with him on occasion, but never actually spent any time with him. He was nearly five if Charles remembered correctly, still far too young for the life he was living but a sweet boy. Smiling, he gestured for Jack to join him.

The little boys’ eyes widened, as if he were shocked that Charles had spotted him. He quickly recovered though, checking over his shoulder before dutifully walking towards him. He was still in his night clothes, the hem of the gown catching on the grass. Jack checked over his shoulder again; no doubt expecting Abigail to wake up and drag him back to their tent to wash and dress for the day. But Abigail did not materialize.

Jack clambered onto the rock with a little help from Charles, his feet dangling off the edge as he sat beside the man.

Popping his own piece of chocolate in his mouth he snapped off another bit and held it out for Jack. The child stared at it with wide eyes, fingers flexing where he kept them in his lap “Momma says I can only have chocolate if I’ve been really good,” he sounded forlorn but never took his eyes off the sweet treat.

Chuckling, Charles leant closer whispering “You’ve only just woken up, can’t have done anything bad yet right?”

Perplexity took over Jacks face as he considered this, looking so remarkably like John that Charles couldn’t believe the other man had tried to deny the boys parentage. It didn’t take him long to make a decision though “Oh yeah,” he grinned, happily taking the treat. As he raised it to his lips he hesitated and his grin became a beaming smile at Charles “Thank you Mister Smith.”

They sat in companionable silence as they finished the chocolate bar between them. As the sun rose the air got warmer and the birds and other wildlife began to fill the quiet of the morning with their song. Occasionally Jack would point to a bird or one of the critters visible from their perch and Charles would happily tell him what each one was or at least offer a believable guess.

Their quiet sanctuary was disrupted by a worried shout from Abigail, having awoken and found her son missing from his spot beside her. Jack hastily scrabbled down from the rock and gave a rushed goodbye to Charles before running back to his tent.

The sun had climbed far past the horizon and a quick cursory glance over his shoulder told him Arthur had still yet to return. The chocolate had served its purpose, warm comfort spread through him and the taste of his own mouth no longer made him nauseous but it had also given him a burst of energy. No longer interested in falling back into bed; at least not on his own, Charles returned to his tent and began to dress for the day. A simple linen shirt, khaki vest and a fresh pair of pants and he was set for the day. He toyed with his gun belt for a moment, he wouldn’t be on guard duty and had no intention of leaving camp unless Arthur returned, so he left it on the chest.

Most of the gang were now bustling around, Abigail and Sadie had taken his and Jacks spot on the rock, Dutch was sat reading by his tent and most of the others were milling around with bleary eyes nursing coffee. It was the member stood on the side lines by the horses that caught his attention though.

Sean was fidgeting beside Ennis, gaze flicking back to camp every few seconds. Inevitably his eyes met Charles and the red-head froze, barely moving even as Ennis head butted his shoulder asking for treats.

Rolling his eyes, Charles sighed and approached the Omega. He half expected Sean to bolt as he got closer but the Irishman stood his ground, eyes never leaving the Alpha.

“Before you say anythin’ big man, he t’reatened me wit’ violence he did, feared for ma’ life,” the Irishman prattled on, stepping to the otherside of the hitching post as though that would protect him from Charles.

The Alpha gave a cursory glance to the camp, the gang were paying them little heed except Hosea who was making a show of reading the newspaper but his eyes kept flicking to the pair. He looked back to Sean who was getting more fidgety the longer Charles stayed silent. It was tempting to let him suffer a little longer after the fright Charles had been given at finding Arthur missing. But pettiness was something Charles saw little point in indulging. “Calm down you fool,” he admonished, his tone soft “I just want to know if he said where he was headed at all.”

He was still fidgeting; prodding and pulling at the tack on the hitching post but his face relaxed, eyes no longer wide and shining. “’Fraid not, just wanted to get outta camp for a bit. Not surprised really, fella’s been miserable for weeks.”

“What?” the harshness of the single word sticking in Charles throat.

Wide eyes stared back at him once more “Ah surely you noticed big man? He’s been mopin’ about since I got back at least. With everyone breathin’ down ‘is neck all the time I ‘alf thought he’d ‘ave run off ages ago,” as he spoke he gained more confidence, realising Charles had no intention of beating him into next week “Hell, if I was told I had to have a nurse maid follow me everywhere? Well that’d be the last you ever saw of Sean McGuire I can tell you that much.”

Sean kept talking but it was just white noise to Charles. Thoughts barraged his brain; Arthur hadn’t been himself, quieter and more pensive than the man he knew. Why hadn’t he said anything? No, that was the wrong question. Why hadn’t _he_ noticed.

“I wouldn’t fret though,” Sean added watching the Alpha with concern “First pup right?”

Charles nodded.

“Well, anyone would expect ya’ to go all ‘macho-alpha-knot-head’, be weird if ya’ didn’t. That moody bastard you call a Mate prob’ly expected it too, hell it’s prob’ly why he snuck off like he did, didn’t want ya to worry yourself none.”

It didn’t make Charles feel any better, no matter the truth of what Sean was saying. He felt heavy down to his shoes. Sean was still rambling on. “Where are you off to anyway?” the Alpha cut him off, consciously keeping his voice soft as he bundled his dissenting thoughts to the back of his mind.

The Irishman stared at him as if he had grown an extra head, eyes flicking to the saddle in his hands as if he had only just noticed it. “Oh, well, I just thought I’d go and err, look for him,” it was the first time Charles had seen Sean look nervous; out of his depth doing the right thing. Charles pausing apparently prompted Sean to once again keep talking “Jus’ he said he’d be back by sunrise and that was a few hours ago now-“

Something must have shown in Charles face because Sean stopped himself for once. The heaviness that had riddled him was changing, a tingling panicked dread starting in his throat spread through him. Something was _wrong._

_Something was wrong with Arthur._

* * *

Everything ached but worst was his shoulder. The O’Driscolls had been predictably heavy handed in taking Arthur with them; trussing him up and hefting him onto the back of what had been _his_ horse. It had turned his stomach every which way causing him to spill it contents more than once until he was just dry heaving and shuddering at every bump on the journey.

It hadn’t taken them long to reach their destination, a small camp in a thicket of trees just past the bridge outside Valentine. He had been hauled of the horse and allowed to drop onto the solid ground, wrists still tightly bound behind him he felt his shoulder ‘pop’ on impact, fresh hot pain searing through him.

The next few minutes had been a haze of throbbing pain as he had been dragged to a tree. A voice in the back of his mind, which sounded remarkably like Dutch, screaming at him to escape when they cuts his hands loose; but despite the urgency of the voice and the fear in his gut, Arthur just could not get his body to co-operate, succeeding in little more than a few jerky movements earning a swift back hand from the O’Driscoll restraining him.

So he was now leant against the tree, both arms wrenched behind him and retied. His feet stretched out in front of him still bound from being hogtied. The sun was well past rising and Arthur could only hope the gang would be saddling up to find him.

The O’Driscolls were paying him little heed. The lanky one, Mickey, had ridden off with another just after arriving, no doubt to inform Colm of their ‘catch’, leaving Arthur with four of the bastards. One stood on watch, perched on the edge of a rock, repeater ready in his hands. Three were sat by the campfire including the greasy little rat Dougie, drinking and laughing amongst themselves, occasionally throwing Arthur a grin.

His mouth was sour with bile and he was steadily losing any feeling in his right arm that wasn’t pain. He swallowed, hoping to diminish the dread that was settling on him. _Charles was coming. The gang were coming_. He ran the phrases through his mind on repeat and prayed that it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said this was the last chapter then disappeared for a few months? Well, shit happens and there's one more chapter!! Yay...?

**Author's Note:**

> ...how is Charles going to react?
> 
> My first proper A/B/O fic so feel free to leave comments and feedback! All are welcome! (Sorry if it sucked!)


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